


The Hour of Hauntings and Whispered Prayers

by WindTossedCourage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Complete, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Gilbert Deserves to be Bullied and Mercedes Should Be the One to Do It, Let Mercedes Be Angry, Mentioned Annette Fantine Dominic, POV Mercedes von Martritz, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindTossedCourage/pseuds/WindTossedCourage
Summary: “You and your daughter are quite similar. Same hair, same eyes, same unwavering faith. However, where you placed your faith in the Goddess, she placed hers in the belief that she would one day find you again.”-Mercedes encounters Gilbert in the cathedral on stormy night and is forced to confront the cruelty of fathers.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	The Hour of Hauntings and Whispered Prayers

Mercedes favored midnight, for it was the hour of hauntings and whispered prayers.

Tonight, the great doors of the cathedral had been barred against a coming storm. The wind howled and beat at the windows, and the bells danced in their tower, humming a mournful song as they swayed together. Moonlight spilled across the floor of the empty cathedral, providing more than enough light to see, though shadows gathered in the corners, waiting for the sky to darken with storm clouds so they could claim the cathedral for their own.

Near the altar, Mercedes stood alone in the gloom with her head bowed. She welcomed the peace and solitude stormy nights ushered in, as they reminded her of the first night she had spent in the tiny eastern Faerghus church after they fled House Bartels, wrapped in her mother’s arms as they watched a storm roll in from the north. The peals of thunder accompanied her mother’s sweet voice as she hummed a hymn, the first song Mercedes had heard from her mother in years. It had felt like a promise of protection and guidance from the Goddess Herself.

A gust of wind shook the building, and somewhere, a door creaked.

Mercedes held her breath and waited.

Someone slowly approached the altar, their boots clicking on the tile floor. Without turning around, Mercedes held out her hands in a welcoming gesture. “Oh, Spirit,” she called, “have you come seeking forgiveness for the sins of your past life?”

The footsteps stopped. “Forgive me,” a deep voice said. “I was under the impression that no one was here.”

Mercedes stiffened, and then let her arms fall to her sides.

An older man stood twenty feet away, at the edge of the circle of moonlight, peering into the surrounding shadows. His armor marked him as a Knight of Seiros. She had seen the man briefly around the monastery grounds, having just arrived with a new contingency of soldiers from Faerghus. Gilbert, she believed his name was.

She folded her hands at her waist and stepped into the light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

His eyes widened at the sight of her, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. “You are one of the Academy students, aren’t you? Isn’t it rather late for you to be out?”

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “My name is Mercedes. I find that praying in the cathedral before bed helps me sleep better.”

“Gilbert,” he said with a short bow. “It is a bit surprising that one as devout as yourself believes in something like apparitions.” There was an odd familiarity about him that she could not quite place. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, the sharp, clipped words that carried a hint of a northern accent, or how surprise had distorted his stoic countenance when he saw her, almost as if he'd recognized her as more than an Academy student.

“Isn’t it customary to pray for the souls of the dead in Faerghus?” she pointed out. “And if someone believes in a divine being like the Goddess, is it really so surprising that they would also believe in ghosts? All it is is a bit of faith.”

“I will grant you that.” He nodded at her. “But please. Do not let me interrupt your prayers.”

It was as he turned to leave that she finally recognized him. “I don’t believe I quite caught your surname,” she said. “Dominic, was it?”

The full moon disappeared behind a cloud, plunging the room into darkness.

Mercedes traced a sigil in the air, and a small tongue of fire bloomed in her palm. Cupping the flame in her hands to protect it from the draft that crept in beneath the cathedral doors, she moved over to one of the candelabras flanking the altar and carefully lit each candle, guiding the wisp from wick to wick before letting it return to her awaiting hands.

Gilbert watched her as she worked, the candlelight turning his features skeletal. “How did you know?” There was no surprise in his voice, only tired resignation, as if he had been anticipating an encounter like this for years.

“You and your daughter are quite similar. Same hair, same eyes, same unwavering faith. However, where you placed your faith in the Goddess, she placed hers in the belief that she would one day find you again.”

“I’ve seen you and Annette together around the monastery. Are you two close?”

“She’s my best friend.” Mercedes finished lighting the other candelabra and turned to face him. She did not extinguish her flame, instead letting it warm her icy fingers, as it was a welcome distraction from the coal of anger that smoldered deep within her. “Were you aware that she attended the Royal School of Sorcery and graduated with top marks? It’s where we met.”

“I… I was not.”

“During our first week, I found her in the library, surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. It was like her own little fortress, keeping her safe while she chased down the answers to all her questions. All I could see was the top of her head. She had fallen asleep studying with a book wrapped in her arms. And when I woke her up, she went right back to work! And that was far from the last time I found her like that. I had to carry her back to her room at least a dozen times before we graduated. You know Annie—once she has a goal, she doesn’t stop working until she achieves it. Her plan was to get a recommendation and enroll in the Officers Academy, just so she could get the chance to come to Garreg Mach and search for you.”

Though for every day spent chasing down ambitions, there would be a day of doubt and fear. On those days, Mercedes would coax Annette out of the library for an afternoon of baking or a trip into Fhirdiad, anything she could think of to distract Annette from her worries. Despite her drive and her relentless pursuit of knowledge and her insistence that she could handle herself, Annette was still a child. However, Mercedes supposed, there were far too many children forced to bear the burdens placed on them by the adults in their lives who cared only for themselves, and their world was one built upon a foundation made up of the broken bodies of cast-away children. 

“I worried for her every day,” Mercedes continued. “I still do. That she’ll push herself too hard and burn out. That the goals she’s so desperate to achieve might not turn out like she thought they would. That someone else will inevitably disappoint her—maybe even me.” She offered him a pleasant smile. “You understand, don’t you? Being her father and all.”

Lightning flickered across the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“I have no right to call myself a father.” Gilbert’s shoulders slumped. “Abandoning my old name and my old life is the price I must pay for my failures in the Tragedy of Duscur. It is the least I can do to honor His Majesty’s memory.”

“Duty and honor above all else,” she murmured. “That sentiment has always been king in Faerghus, hasn’t it?”

“Very much so. It is for that reason that I pray for His Majesty’s soul every day, that he may find the peace in the afterlife that was robbed from him in this life.”

The candles sputtered, spilling sparks onto the floor. “Is a dead king more important to you than your daughter?”

“I was tasked to protect His Majesty and I failed to do so. It is because of my transgressions that Faerghus mourns the loss of her King and Queen—”

“That's not what I asked you. Yes, His Majesty is gone, but Annette is still here, alive and well, and she would gladly welcome you back, regardless of what you’ve done.”

“She brings me more happiness than I deserve. And it is for that reason I must stay away.”

Without thinking, she brought her hands together, snuffing out the flame. Smoke curled up from between her fingers. “Why is this about your happiness rather than hers? Or does that not matter to you?”

Gilbert gaped at her, opening his mouth briefly to respond before shutting it.

“You mistake your penance for atonement,” she continued, her voice sharp as a blade, forged by memories of the cruelty of fathers. “You seek redemption by appealing to the dead, but that serves no one but yourself. For as long as you remain in this life, you must answer to the living and the divine.”

Rain spattered against the stained-glass windows. Gilbert watched the raindrops distort the Saints’ features, avoiding her gaze. “I cannot face her now. Not after all these years. She deserves better than a fool who would abandon his family.”

The coal of anger burning deep within her flared up, and bitterness washed across her tongue. “Oh, I see,” she said. “It’s much easier to escape into the familiarity of your past mistakes than to face the uncertainty of the future, isn’t it? As if you are the only person weighed down by the guilt of abandoning someone dear to you.” 

His attention snapped back to her. “Then surely you must understand. It sounds as if you speak from experience.”

While it pained her to draw a comparison between herself and the pathetic man before her, she could not deny that she indeed understood.

Traces of the boy she was forced to leave behind appeared everywhere she looked—in the joy of the children who played on the monastery grounds, in the younger students who looked to her for advice, in Annette’s wide grin as she walked by Mercedes’s side. She could not help but grasp at and cling to them, gathering up every piece of Emile that she could so she did not lose him again.

Perhaps that was the reason why the Goddess had seen it fit to draw her and Annette together. They both had someone they loved ripped away from them, and in a way, they filled the empty places in each other’s lives, balancing one another out and becoming a new family of their own. Never again would Annette be abandoned, and never again would Mercedes leave someone she loved at the mercy of the monsters who donned kind masks and whispered empty promises. However, the most frightening beings were not the beasts who prowled through the darkness or angry gods, but rather the mortal men intoxicated by their own ideals. Try as she might, she knew she could not protect Annette forever, but regardless of the path their lives would take, Mercedes had no intention of leaving Annette’s side.

“I do,” she said, producing another small flame to provide some light for her journey back to her room. “But if I knew where he was, I would run to him, without any hesitation, so we could be a family again. Your daughter is right here, within reach, and you would rather hide. And because of that, I pity you.”

Gilbert stood at the edge of the circle of light, watching her leave. “Are you planning to tell Annette that you spoke to me?” he asked as she passed.

Mercedes paused briefly but did not turn around. “Annie’s smart. She probably already knows you’re here.”

She was almost to the entrance when she heard, “Thank you for watching over her.”

It was still raining when she slipped out of the small hidden door at the front of the cathedral. The dull glow of her make-shift lantern reflected on the surface of the slick cobblestones. As she stood beneath the great stone archway, she watched the heavy gray clouds pulse with lightning and waited for the storm to subside.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wish Mercedes and Annette's sisterly bond was allowed to be more complex than what we actually got in canon. The combination of Mercedes' dislike of nobles with toxic ideals (see: her support chain with Lorenz) and experiences with crappy fathers and Annette's search for her deadbeat dad makes for a lot of untapped angst and potential conflict. That being said, Mercedes is by far one of the most complex characters in the game, and therefore, one of the most misinterpreted and mischaracterized. By focusing on her hidden anger, I wanted to explore a side of her that we only caught glimpses in the game. I hope I did her justice.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! This fic was unbeta'd, so feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
